


A Truth So Loud You Can't Ignore

by babbitly



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M, Pre-Everything Going to Shit, Pre-Troy, Yuletide 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbitly/pseuds/babbitly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This was how they worked together. Achilles lead. Patroclus followed. It would always be this way."<br/>-----<br/>A day in the life of Patroclus and Achilles. Before Troy. Before the pain of loss. Just two boys in love, safe and happy and full of youth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Truth So Loud You Can't Ignore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Destina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!!!  
> I listened to Youth by Troye Sivan roughly 500 times while writing this so maybe give it a listen if you want?
> 
> Also really large thank you to sara for reading it and making me feel okay about it and caroline for helping me come up with an idea when I was strugggggling

They had been the first words out of Achilles’ mouth, after he had pressed an animate kiss to Patroclus’ lips as he woke.  

“Let’s go hunting today,” Achilles said, as he pulled back from Patroclus’ mouth, obviously excited about the idea, leaving his palm flat against Patroclus’ bare chest.

“We have no need to go hunting.”

“It will be enjoyable, Patroclus,” he said, his hair a mess from sleep as he lay on his side, head supported by his hand as he took in Patroclus’ face.

“For you maybe.”

“You like hunting,” he said with exasperation as he sat up from the palette, the thin blanket dropping to his waist with his movements. Patroclus followed the line of his body down to his hip bones with his eyes for a moment before flicking his eyes back up to Achilles’ face. He was grinning.

“Do you like any other things you see?”

“Go hunting by yourself,” Patroclus said, his face aflame as he shoved Achilles’ hand from his chest, embarrassed. He looked up at the ceiling of their cave. He closed his eyes, their cave.

“Patroclus.” Achilles said, the laughter obvious in his voice. Patroclus did not answer and turned on his side away from him.

“‘Patroclus, why do you turn from me?” He said, voice still teasing. Patroclus felt Achilles move behind him to press his warm body against his back beneath the blanket. He could feel Achilles’ every inch pressed against him, his muscled legs and chest, the familiar strength of his arm as it slid around Patroclus’ waist to pull him flush against Achilles’ body, and most prominently, the firm presence against his lower back that twisted his stomach with a jolt of excitement that settled between his legs.

“Do not tear your gaze from me if you enjoy it so,” Achilles said into Patroclus’ ear, his voice low but Patroclus could still hear the jest. “I know you enjoy it.”

“Vanity certainly suits you well.”

“As stubbornness does to you,” Achilles’ said, turning his hand in Patroclus’ grasp to interlock their fingers beneath the covers.

“Come with me, Patroclus. A hunt will be fun,” he said as he trailed his lips down the skin of Patroclus’ neck. He stopped his movements to focus his attention on the juncture of Patroclus’ collarbone, a spot that pleased them both greatly. Patroclus let his neck loll farther to the side, not so embarassed that he would not allow Achilles to use his newly discovered talents on him.

“I am hardly half as stubborn as you and far less manipulative,” Patroclus said, smiling as he stared at the wall of their den.

Achilles barked a laugh into Patroclus’ neck before pulling the skin he had been kissing between his teeth gingerly.

“I may be manipulative, vain, and stubborn,” he said disjointedly, kissing his way up to Patroclus’ ear with every word,  “but I know you have no real qualm with it.”

Achilles drug his hand up Patroclus’ side, fingers leaving a trail of heat that crept across his whole body in their wake. Achilles gripped Patroclus’ shoulder and pulled, rolling him again on to his back, with incredible ease, and stared into his eyes. Achilles' eyes were alive with mischief and joy and excitement, and Patroclus could not help as the smile grew across his lips. Achilles leaned down and kissed him once more. Patroclus didn’t feign disinterest this time as he slid his hand into Achilles' soft hair, kissing him back just as eagerly.

Achilles moved away from the kiss.  “Come with me for a hunt,” he said, looking down at Patroclus, his lips red, victory in his gaze.

Patroclus lifted himself up to press his mouth back to Achilles’. He didn’t need to give him an affirmation. Achilles knew he would follow him wherever he went.

* * *

 

“Hurry, Patroclus,” Achilles called from over his shoulder “ I think the snails will start to pass you if you move any slower.”

Achilles’ laugh rang through the trees. His voice wasn’t sucked into the dense foliage, never muffled, it danced through the air, mixing with the sounds of the nature around them, his laughter caught on the tail end of a breeze. Patroclus felt surrounded by him as he stared at the back of his golden head, a smile pulling at his lips.

This was the Achilles he loved. Free and wild and beautiful.

Patroclus shook his head and hoisted the large bow over his shoulder that Achilles had thrusted into his arms in addition to looping a sword around his waist before they had left the cave this morning.

“This seems unnecessary,” Patroclus had said, as Achilles’ fingers buckled the leather belt around his waist.

“You can never be too prepared, Patroclus.” Achilles had smiled, imitating Chiron’s deep timbre as he pulled harshly at the belt, almost knocking the air from his lungs.

“It seems your preparations were for naught,” Patroclus said loudly,  trudging behind him, his ankles itching as the high grass scratched his skin,  “We’ve been at this for hours and yet, I see no sign of this boar you claim to have seen.”

“Do you not believe in my sighting?”

“I see no Boar.”

Achilles said nothing as he kept walking, never a good sport when the jesting was directed at the skills he studied so hard to learn. They’d learned how to track with Chiron early on in their stay with the Centaur. Picking up signs of animals, learning their markings, discovering where they would travel, and migration patterns. It was an interesting subject, Patroclus would never say otherwise, but it was tedious. Some days they’d be deep in the forest from dusk until the sun began to burn in the evening sky before it set, without ever successfully finding any animals. Achilles never liked those days. It frustrated him to have his work be for naught. But Patroclus didn’t mind. He was learning, getting stronger, and he always felt like he could keep up with Achilles deep in the forest like this, when they had to be acutely aware of their surroundings. It put them on an even playing field, which was so rarely seen in other areas of training with the two of them.

Achilles’ melodic voice snapped Patroclus out of his thoughts. He had begun singing. His voice was strong, and as he had always been so comfortable with himself that he never faltered with a tune, his melody was perfect. Achilles’ voice was one of the most comforting things to Patroclus. It took him back to a time of their newly formed friendship, a time Patroclus still thought about frequently, their lyre lessons, their time with Peleus.  He would never understand what Achilles saw in him that day he decided they would be friends, but he was grateful. Because now Achilles was his. And he was Achilles.

They walked on, ducking under branches, swatting at bugs, and paying close attention to the ground they traversed for any more of the signs they needed, and Achilles began a new song. This one softer than the first, but just as beautiful. His tune mixed with the chirping of the birds in the trees, almost like they were singing with him. Patroclus smiled again. Achilles.

Achilles stopped his melody abruptly. It felt as though something had drained from the forest, now cold and hollow. He watched as Achilles crouched down, sitting on his haunches near a tree, and began rubbing his hands over the rough bark.  Patroclus joined him. There were deep gouges in the wood, approximately knee high, an obvious sign of-

“Here is your proof, my doubting Patroclus.” Achilles said as he turned to face him, standing up with his hands on his hips, eyes alight and a haughty smile in place. “These are fresh. The wood has yet to scab.”

“Well do not stand and gloat about your prediction. Shall we continue?” Patroclus asked, standing quickly and walking past Achilles and the tree. “Or is disproving me all the hunt you need?”

“Hardly!” Achilles yelled. Patroclus huffed out a laugh and continued walking, a familiar clearing in sight up ahead. They would possibly be able to discover more tracks in that area.

Patroclus heard Achilles familiar footsteps behind him and let the monotonous cadence take over his thoughts as they walked. Time seemed strange here in the forest, perhaps the shade from the trees was tricking his body into-

Achilles abruptly grabbed Patroclus’ arm, snapping him out of his thoughts yet again. His grip was painful as he swung Patroclus around to his side and pulled him behind a tree.

Patroclus’ eyes were wide with shock as he looked up to Achilles’ face for answers, but Achilles was not looking at him. His eyes were trained on the clearing. Patroclus leaned around his frame and understood immediately. The hunt.

The boar was large. Massive, if Patroclus dared. The beast was covered in wiry black hair that was coated in mud and flecks of tree bark. It was snuffling loudly at the base of a tree, but even with its head down Patroclus could see the large tusks as they emerged from either side of the creature’s snout. A hunt Achilles had wanted, a hunt he would now get.  

Patroclus looked to Achilles, whose hand was still digging into his forearm, nails stinging at his skin. He brought his other hand up to Achilles’ and squeezed, not wanting to speak for that the Boar might hear them. He pulled at Achilles long fingers and Achilles pried his attention away from the boar to Patroclus, meeting his eyes. Achilles’ eyes were wide, wild, and ready for a fight, his energy thrumming to life as Patroclus took in his face. This creature was truly huge, the largest Boar they had encountered in the forest in all their years with Chiron. Patroclus could almost taste Achilles’ excitement in the air. It was making Patroclus giddy, his fingers tingling as he waited to see what Achilles would have them do. This was how they worked together. Achilles lead. Patroclus followed. It would always be this way.

Achilles tapped the head of the sword at Patroclus’ waist and nodded his head backwards, tilting his chin up, a signal they had used before. They would attack from different sides. Patroclus nodded as he reached for his sword, unsheathing it quietly as he walked backwards around the large tree. Achilles, treading with light footsteps, walked farther away from Patroclus to the right of the animal. Patroclus kept his eyes trained on Achilles. He would signal when they would emerge from the trees and hopefully surprise the animal enough that it wouldn’t take off, they needed the beast to come at them. A chase was not what they were looking for. Achilles longed for a fight.

Achilles raised his hand, halting their movements. Patroclus felt the energy in his limbs as he braced himself for his command. The boar stood almost motionless, ears twitching as it scratched its tusks against the bark of the tree, the noise grating and loud to Patroclus’ ears.

Patroclus flicked his eyes back to Achilles, who was waiting for the animal to bow its head, just like Chiron had taught them. Achilles was as still as one of the trees around them, his eyes fixed only on the boar. And then he closed his fist and Patroclus turned and ran up the side of the clearing.

It only took a few steps before the boar heard them. Whipping his large, hairy head around with a snort. Patroclus watched as the boar did exactly what Achilles had wanted and backed into the tree, waiting to charge them as they approached.

Achilles was quicker than Patroclus, so he veered to the right before Patroclus veered to the left and as Patroclus looked over to gauge their distance, the Boar surged forward. Right for Patroclus. It ran towards him. Its thick body moving surprisingly fast. Patroclus continued his run forward, knowing he couldn’t veer out of the way too quickly or the animal would bypass him and then they would be on a chase.

The beast got closer, twenty feet away, it grunted loud and ugly, ten feet away, its tusks large and dirty, five feet away--And then Patroclus’ body moved as if by memory, swinging out with his blade, and throwing his body to the left as the animal charged him. His blade connected, the boar let out a shrill squeal as Patroclus felt the pull of his sword as it was ripped from his hands, lodged in the animal’s side. But it was utterly unphased. It leaned its weight into the turn and rounded on Patroclus. Patroclus’ eyes went wide as he sat up from the ground. He scrabbled for his bow on his shoulder, pulling as the beast approached, snarling and furious.

The beast let out its shrillest squeal yet, high pitched and keening, and fell to the ground. Achilles swung himself over the beast’s back and drove his blade through its chest. A clean stab to the heart, swift and true. Just as he was taught.  Achilles ended the animal quickly, his prowess as a fighter no match for any creature or man, and looked back to Patroclus from his kneeling position over the boar. His smile was devastating, his cheeks stained red from exertion, and his eyes sought out Patroclus’ looking for approval. It made Patroclus’ stomach turn, that this man, one so strong and disciplined and talented, one prophesied by their Gods, would ever look to him for anything. But that was Achilles. This was how they were. Patroclus closed the gap between them, cupping Achilles’ handsome face with one hand, fingers sliding into sweaty golden curls.

“A beautiful kill, Achilles. Well done.”

His answering smile was radiant.

* * *

 

Patroclus had not realized how far they had walked to find the beast, so caught up as he was by Achilles’ presence and voice as he sang his songs. But they had been walking for more than an hour next to the river and Patroclus was growing uneasy. The midday’s sun was high in the sky,  beating down on their heads, the covering of the trees no longer overhead to keep them cool.

They had decided to first cut a path to the river and follow it upstream to avoid any fallen trees or obstacles in the forest. The Boar was too large for either of them to carry by himself. They would not have stood a chance hauling it back through the shorter route of the forest. Even Achilles was not strong enough for this feat.

Achilles had roped a line around the Boar’s legs and handed one to Patroclus so they could both pull the weight. It wasn’t difficult, just incredibly dull. Dull and hot and the river was right there at their sides to tease them.

Patroclus could feel Achilles growing restless next to him as they walked. He kept shifting his side of the rope from shoulder to shoulder, kicking rocks like a small child, and huffing out deep, loud breaths. Patroclus shook his head, truly this was not who the God’s had predicted would be the greatest fighter among men. He was no more than an impatient child.

“Why don’t we rest for a while?” Patroclus asked, still walking beside him, knowing Achilles needed something to entertain him or he would become intolerable.  

Achilles turned to him, bored, tired eyes coming back to life at the words.

“Let’s.”

* * *

 

The day had grown warm and hazy as Patroclus dried himself in the grass. They had left the boar closer to the woods as not to attract any unwanted visitors while they were swimming. The sun was beginning its slow afternoon descent in the sky as it reflected off the rippling surface of their stream. It was strange to think that he claimed a stream as theirs, but it was. All of this was theirs when Chiron wasn’t around; his and Achilles. Patroclus looked out over the river as the surface bubbled and Achilles emerged. His normally light hair now dark from the water.

His sopping wet mop streamed water down his face, which Patroclus followed with his eyes. It trailed down his golden chest, coruscating as it flowed farther down his abdomen, reuniting with the surface of the water just below Achilles’ protruding hip bones. Patroclus felt his face heat, probably from the sun he reasoned, as he averted his eyes back to Achilles’ face as he reached up and swept his damp hair from his forehead. His eyes immediately caught Patroclus’, a smile spreading wide across his beautiful face.

Patroclus blinked, shifting his position on the soft grass of the riverbed as Achilles waded  from mid river to the shore. His movements as eloquent as his lyre playing, a grace Patroclus could never hope to achieve. Every inch of this man was beauty. Patroclus took in Achilles’ naked, wet form, trying his hardest not to embarrass himself as he did this morning. He would not feign disinterest this time. Achilles already knew how much Patroclus desired him. What was the use in hiding it anymore?

Achilles sat himself beside Patroclus, dripping water across his bare legs and stomach before he lowered himself to the ground. He reached with damp hands to entangle their fingers together and bring Patroclus’ hand to his mout. Achilles’ breath warm as it ghosted across Patroclus’ skin. The gooseflesh that arose on his arm and neck only amplified as Achilles drug his lips across the skin of the back of Patroclus’ hand, tugging lightly on his skin with his teeth and flicked his eyes on Patroclus’ again. He kissed Patroclus’ hand once more before he reached forward and pressed his hand to the side of Patroclus’ face. His thumb, calloused and rough, rubbing a line across his cheek.

“You seem happy,” Achilles said.

“As do you.”

Achilles smiled wider, his eyes bright and inviting.

“I am,” he said, as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Patroclus’. Achilles kissed him without reserve, soft lips meeting with a rush of emotion that they both held for one another.  Would he ever tire of kissing Achilles? Would he ever reach a point where every single thing about Achilles didn’t enthral him and destroy him and amaze him? He honestly didn’t believe so.

“Is this what the hunt does to you?” Patroclus said, as Achilles moved his kisses across his cheek to below his ear.

“No,” Achilles said, continuing the path with his mouth down the length of Patroclus’ neck, “This is what you do to me.”

“You sound like a woman in a romance tale.”

“Good.”

Patroclus brought his hands up to Achilles’ face and pulled him back up to meet his mouth. Achilles obliged eagerly, opening his mouth to their kiss and sliding his tongue between Patroclus’ open lips. Patroclus groaned between their joined mouths and felt Achilles suck in a harsh breath. No, he did not think he would ever tire of this man.

Achilles began to move again, their mouths sliding together in sweet unison as he straddled Patroclus, his body a welcome warmth to Patroclus’ already overheated skin. Patroclus was on fire from him. He could feel Achilles in his veins. His rough, roaming hands that sought out every inch of skin they could reach on Patroclus were almost too much. Achilles kissed him deeply, his lips moving in a rhythm as melodic as his singing voice. Patroclus wrapped his hands around Achilles’ waist, pulling him closer. He needed him. All of him.

Achilles slid his hand that wasn’t supporting himself through Patroclus’ hair, down his neck, his chest, his abdomen, stopping only once he reached between Patroclus’ legs to put pressure where Patroclus wanted it most.

Patroclus groaned Achilles’ name between their mouths as he followed suit and slid his own hand down Achilles’ abdomen, knowing what he wanted. What they both needed. He teased at the fine hair that trailed from Achilles’ navel, following lower and lower with his fingers until Achilles was the one gasping out Patroclus’ name between their joined lips. Hearing Achilles like this wrecked him. Tore him open at the chest and exposed everything he ever tried to hide. He needed Achilles. He needed to have him coming apart in his hands like this. He needed to feel this usually strong and composed man quiver beneath him as Patroclus stroked him slowly. He needed to feel the sweet friction of Achilles’ worn palm against himself. He needed all of this and so so much more.

Patroclus arched his back into Achilles’ body as he sped up the movements of his hand. He could feel Achilles’ abdomen tightening beneath his fingers, body heaving from shallow breaths of pleasure with Patroclus’ every stroke. Achilles groaned again as he buried his face into Patroclus’ neck, voice rough and ragged and beautiful. Everything about him was so beautiful. Patroclus needed to see him come apart, needed to watch him as he crashed down around him. He drug his hand up Achilles’ back, feeling the tight, defined muscles beneath his skin, and up farther still, to grip around the base of his neck. Patroclus gasped again with the movements of Achilles’ hand between his legs and pulled Achilles head up to look him in the eyes.

Achilles’ eyes were dark, his eyelids fluttering as he sucked in an uneven breath, his cheeks tinged pink, and it was all from Patroclus. Patroclus felt a sharp twist in his abdomen at the sight and thought, the feeling sending shocks of pleasure down his legs.

“Achilles,” he groaned, speeding up the pace of his own hand to match Achilles’, wanting them to be in unison, always together.

Achilles leaned down to press his lips against Patroclus’, his mouth greedy, their kiss raw. Patroclus’ body tightened again, so close to coming undone himself. He gripped Achilles tighter, making him gasp again and roll his hips forward pushing them even closer together. And then Patroclus felt Achilles usually fluid ministrations falter, watched as the muscles in his neck strained as his head fell forward on to Patroclus’ chest, and then he was spilling between their abdomens. His movements between Patroclus’ legs only faltered for a few moments as his body shook and tensed from release, before he was once again stroking Patroclus smoothly and faster than before. Achilles bit hard at the juncture of Patroclus’ collarbone, his favorite spot to tease, sending just enough pain and arousal through him that Patroclus groaned out Achilles’ name once more before his pleasure peaked.  His head fell  backwards into the soft grass and his body arched upward into Achilles’ touch as he stroked him through his release.

Achilles kissed down his chest as Patroclus came down, stroking him slow and gentle as he came back to himself.

They were both breathing heavily. Achilles’ movements were already becoming sluggish as he trailed his lips to Patroclus’ jaw, biting lightly for a beat, and then kissing him full on the lips.

“Patroclus,” Achilles said, holding himself up slightly to look into his face with a calm smile and heavy eyes, “I think you were sent to Phthia for a reason.”

“Is this the reason?” Patroclus teased, hands stroking up Achilles back. “For your pleasure?”

“We were destined,” Achilles said, ignoring the jest and bringing a hand to rest over Patroclus’ sternum. “It was written in the stars, you and I. I know it.”

Achilles did not say things to humor others, he spoke the truth, Patroclus knew this above anything else when it came to Achilles. He was not jesting or letting his pleasure get the better of his mind. He was being honest. And in that moment, with the sun low in the sky, their river beyond them, a spoil of their companionship and teamwork awaiting them in the trees, Patroclus believed him. They would be together like this forever, for they had never known how to do anything else. Achilles would lead and Patroclus would follow.

Patroclus leaned forward once more and brushed his lips against Achilles’, “As do I.”

He felt Achilles smile widen beneath his lips before he rolled to the side and sat on the grass. Patroclus followed suit and lifted himself up to sit, resting his weight on his hands. He took in their presences, sticky and wet and filthy. Achilles was utterly disheveled and Patroclus was certain he looked far worse.

“Let us bathe before we head back to Chiron,” Patroclus said, lifting himself up from the ground. He stood before Achilles, his blood rushing back through his limbs with the movement and extended his hand. Achilles looked up to him, squinting into the sun and took his hand without hesitation.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this fic, it was incredibly fun to write!


End file.
